It’s my birthday! The most fabulous day of the year.
On December 16th of every year, I willfully throw humility out the window for 24 hours and celebrate and sing a song of myself.
On that tip, here are two of my favorite things in New Jersey, my dear homeland: my favorite house in Island Heights* and my favorite motel sign.
Wild, wild the storm, and the sea high running,
Steady the roar of the gale, with incessant undertone muttering,
Shouts of demoniac laughter fitfully piercing and pealing,
Waves, air, midnight, their savagest trinity lashing,
Out in the shadows there milk-white combs careering,
On beachy slush and sand spirts of snow fierce slanting,
Where through the murk the easterly death-wind breasting,
Through cutting swirl and spray watchful and firm advancing,
(That in the distance! is that a wreck? is the red signal flaring?)
Slush and sand of the beach tireless till daylight wending,
Steadily, slowly, through hoarse roar never remitting,
Along the midnight edge by those milk-white combs careering,
A group of dim, weird forms, struggling, the night confronting,
That savage trinity warily watching.
Patrolling Barnegat by Walt Whitman
Despite being my favorite poet, I don’t think Uncle Walt had anything to say about this one.
I bet he could come up with some real zingers, though.